Losing Her
by MispeledIronicallyMisspelled
Summary: "Oh, okay... well, R-Ron proposed to me! We're getting married." We're getting married. Shock submerged Harry, such shock he felt he was going to drown in it. Hermione was still beaming up at him, awaiting his enthusiastic reaction. But it wouldn't come. M 'cause I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

"Potter, can you come and check out these files?"

"Potter, I think we have a new lead."

"Potter, can you look at these reports for me?"

"Potter, we will need you on our next brief."

"Potter, why don't you go and have a well-deserved break," muttered Harry Potter through gritted teeth as the constant questions and orders flowed. It was a balmy summer afternoon, and he was sat in the Auror office, his head aching as he poured over a handful of reports. The stream of instructions finally stopped and the empty silence was like heaven to Harry's head and ears. It had been going on all morning. He was weary, not to mention hungry, but his shift would not be over for another half an hour. Sitting back, he dragged his hands across his face, barely stifling a yawn. It had been a particularly long day cooped up in the Ministry. He had stopped for a lunch break, but that had ended up being a five minute gap to quickly bolt down a sandwich before returning to work. He'd had a break earlier as well, only to be swamped by his fellow Aurors all asking something of him. He couldn't wait to return back to Grimmauld Place, and his girlfriend Ginny. With this happy prospect, he took a deep breath and plunged back into the reports.

"I'm home!" Harry called thirty-five minutes later as he closed the door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place behind him and proceeded through the candle-lit corridor. The miserable old dwelling had transformed into a well-cared-for and jolly house for him and Ginny, courtesy of the now cheery house-elf Kreacher. A slender young woman with long red hair and a pretty face flooded down to the corridor to greet him and threw her arms about his neck.

"Good day?" she asked, pulling away to place a kiss to his mouth.

He gave a non-committal shrug. "Not bad," he said, not bringing himself to tell her how terrible it had been.

"Kreacher's made the dinner," Ginny said as she led him through to the stuffy kitchen, "how does steak pie and boiled potatoes sound?"

"Brilliant," smiled Harry, and his stomach gave a grumble of agreement.

"Good evening, Master Harry," chuntered Kreacher merrily, bustling into the kitchen and taking his master's cloak.

"Hey, Kreacher," Harry said, grinning fondly at the house-elf before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"Dinner will not be a moment," Kreacher said, now pulling out a chair for a beaming Ginny, "if Mistress Ginny will also take a seat, I shall bring it to you..."

The steak pie and potatoes were just as good as anticipated, and Harry knocked the steaming food back with a pint of warming Butterbeer. Feeling a lot better, he helped the house-elf tidy up the dishes before returning to his seat to sip the last dregs of Butterbeer. He felt his girlfriend come up behind him, placing her slim hands on his shoulders and beginning to massage him gently.

"Had lunch with Hermione today?"she asked as she worked.

Harry shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of drink. "Nope. She doesn't work on Tuesdays."

"Of course," said Ginny sweetly, and he thought he heard a smirk in her tone.

* * *

Wednesdays were usually good. Harry would get up, have a large fry-up breakfast made by Kreacher, kiss Ginny a goodbye, work the morning, have a leisurely lunch with his best friend, do a two-hour shift in the afternoon, return home to his girlfriend who would greet him with a large mug of aromatic tea, and then... well, you know. But today things were different. Everything was right up until he got to the Ministry. There, he dimly saw Hermione Granger before she had hurled herself at him so hard he nearly toppled right over in the middle of the Atrium.

"Woah," he said, hugging her back a little cluelessly, "what's up?"

"Oh, the sky," beamed Hermione, breaking away and positively shining with apparent glee.

"You're happy," Harry noticed, trying to contain his smile.

She just beamed all the wider, her chocolate eyes glowing. "I have some news."

"Hmm?"

"Well... well," she began, her face lit up so brightly Harry was starting to think he'd need sunglasses, "Oh, okay... well, R-Ron proposed to me! We're getting married."

_We're getting married._ Shock submerged Harry, such shock he felt he was going to drown in it. Hermione was still beaming up at him, awaiting his enthusiastic reaction. But it wouldn't come. Instead, he felt like he was going to scream. His fists clenched in the folds of his robes and he bit back harsh words as he looked away from his best friend. Every part of his body had suddenly turned numb.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice sounded hazy. He blinked at her, and her radiant face swam back into focus. He felt light-headed.

"That's great," he finally choked out, his voice hoarse. "Really great."

"You don't sound very sure," she mumbled, the delight fading from her face.

It tugged at his heart as he looked into her now thoroughly disappointed expression. He mentally kicked himself. What kind of a best friend was he? "Sorry. I'm just really shocked. But – but that's great!" He paused; Hermione still looked hurt. "I'm really happy for you."

Her upper teeth worried her lower lip as she gazed at him. "You didn't react how I expected."

For some reason, Harry could feel a sob building at the back of his throat. He reached out and gently cupped Hermione's face, sliding his hands absent-mindedly down her neck and onto her shoulders. "I – I really am happy Hermione."

"I kind of expected you to hug me and spin me round but that's okay."

He found his face breaking into a smile and without further ado he wound his arms round her waist and lifted her off her feet, spinning her round until they were both dizzy and laughing.

"That's more like it," Hermione smiled as her feet touched the floor once more. She gave his cheek a quick, friendly peck. "Sorry, I understand it's a bit of a shock. But you are happy, aren't you?"

"Absolutely delighted," Harry said, though he didn't know what he felt. The split second of pure joy he'd felt as he spun Hermione around in his arms had made him slightly dazed. He wasn't sure if it was out of the happiness of holding her or fact he'd made himself completely dizzy.

"Now – back to the Burrow?"

"W-what?" he stammered, blinking rapidly.

She cocked her head to one side, saying her next statement as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Honestly, Harry, I think you overdid the spinning. The party!"

"P-party?"

"Celebratory party!"

"Hermione, it's half nine in the morning and we're at work..."

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Come on, I don't think work matters right now." And she grabbed his hand and they Disapparated with a loud _crack._

The pair were greeted with exuberant cheers as soon as they'd Apparated into the midst of the party and Hermione immediately vanished into the Weasley throng. Harry spotted Ginny talking surprisingly contentedly with Fleur in one corner and began making a beeline for her. For some reason, he wanted to be as far away from both Hermione and Ron as possible. But this plan didn't quite go accordingly, for he had barely started towards his girlfriend when an arm struck his chest and he turned round and found himself face-to-face with Ron. Clutching a Firewhiskey, red in the face and beaming, his friend gave him a one-armed hug.

"Harry, just the man," he said, his words slurring slightly. Honestly, half nine in the morning and drunk already? Can he not even have the decency to be sober while celebrating his engagement to his fiancée? Especially when said fiancée was _Hermione._

"Hey, Ron," he said with forced happiness, "great to hear the news, mate."

Ron thumped his back. "Thanks! I proposed yesterday at lunch, took her to that new restaurant in Diagon Alley. We owled Grimmuald Place this morning when we decided to have a party but you'd already left, so I sent Hermione to the Ministry to get you on your arrival. Can't believe it myself. How did I ever get her?"

_Believe me, Ron, I have no idea, _Harry thought as Ron wandered off to find his bride-to-be.

"Hey, you!" smiled Ginny, coming up behind him and squeezing his shoulder. "Brill news, isn't it?"

"Yeah," sighed Harry, "really brill."

Obviously not catching the dullness in his tone, Ginny stepped back and straightened a crease in her bright green glittering ensemble. "What do you think about this colour?"

"Erm," said Harry, directing his gaze to her outfit for the first time. Truth be told, the vivid green shade made his eyes hurt, but he decided not to mention this. "It's nice. Really nice. You look lovely."

Ginny smiled appreciatively, leaning in to kiss him chastely.

"Oi, not at our engagement party!"

The pair broke apart as Ron appeared next to them, a grinning Hermione on his hand.

"Honestly, Ronald," said Ginny loftily, taking a sip from her Firewhiskey.

Harry looked at Hermione. Her deep chocolate eyes were swimming with joyful tears. She was happy. That was all that mattered, wasn't it?

"Right, now, we've got a cake to cut," Ron said happily.

"Because cake is the most important thing to dear Ronald here," quipped Ginny, rolling her eyes. Harry said nothing, instead staring stonily at the couple.

"Come on, Ron," said Hermione, casting Harry an odd glance as she tugged on her fiancé's arm, "let's go cut it." And she dragged him away.

"Right, where were we?" Ginny said, starting to kiss Harry again, but he pulled away.

"Just, gotta, erm, you know-'' he muttered awkwardly, backing away from her. She just raised her eyebrows and turned coldly away from him; he took his chance and ran for it. As soon as he reached the bathroom he locked the door and grabbed the rim of the basin, ducking his head over it. So many conflicted feelings passed through his head. He didn't know where the sudden surge of – well, there was no other word for it – _jealousy _had come from. Hermione had always been like his sister, and he played the role of her protective brother. That was how it was. Their relationship had been completely platonic, and he had never doubted that until now. Any deeper feelings he had ever felt had been buried away, never to be looked upon again, but now they were rising back up to the surface. Hermione had grown up into a beautiful, practical, independent young woman who he was proud to call his best friend. But now...

"Will you open this damned door?"

Harry reeled round at the sound of Hermione's voice. She was hammering on the bathroom door and cursing. Sighing, he moved over to it and unlocked it. Hermione burst inside, looking flushed and holding an elegant flute of Firewhiskey. "About time you opened up," she said, shooting him a scathing look.

"What's up with you?" he said, his voice coming out hard and blank.

She let out an angry puff of breath, placing her flute on the top of a cupboard and putting her now free hand on her hip. "What's up with _me_? For Merlin's sake! What are you playing at, Harry?"

He just stared at her. She glared back at him with a look so fiery he thought he was going to burn. "Erm... I've had a long day," he mumbled pathetically. He hadn't quite realised Hermione had picked up on his stony nature that day, and now felt a bit thrown.

She gave a cackle of derisive laughter. "Harry, it's ten in the bloody morning! And in case you haven't noticed, all you've done today is eat breakfast and come to a party! No, there's something else, I know there is, and you better come out with it!"

"_Okay, truth is Hermione, I've started feeling jealous since you announced your engagement to Ron. I'm sorry, the feelings have just sprung up from nowhere and I don't know why." _It wasn't an entirely plausible answer and he didn't much feel like admitting he was jealous, so he just wildly invented a story. "Look, I was up most of last night, being sick and such. I'm feeling really ill to be honest, that's why I came to the bathroom. I'm really glad about the engagement, I'm just not feeling too good."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, and he knew she didn't believe a word of it. But before she could press the matter, Ron yelled her name from downstairs. "This isn't the last of it," she said in a deadly voice, and with that she picked up her Firewhiskey and stalked out of the bathroom.

* * *

**A/N: Hi. So what did you guys think? I know Harry's feelings are a bit sudden and there are tweaks to be made but there we go. I'd like to continue but only if people want that, so please leave a review before you go! (: **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I KNOW! 8 MONTHS IT'S BEEN, 8 MONTHS! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!**

**I honestly can't apologise enough for the slowness of this update. I just kind of had a writer's block and I've been on a Drinny high recently. I don't really have much of an excuse I'm afraid –sadface-**

**But nevermind, 'cause I managed to get this chapter done and I'm hoping I can update a bit quicker from now on.**

**Thank you so much for the overwhelming response; all your reviews were wonderful and helpful and I'm so happy there are people out there reading, following and enjoying this story!**

**Special thanks to **quillbee05 **who sent me a lovely detailed PM with plenty of advice and ideas.**

**Disclaimer:**** Anything you recognise ain't mine, I'm afraid.**

* * *

_He really was an idiot, _Hermione thought irritably as she marched down the stairs to rejoin the party. _What in Merlin's name was his problem?_

"Hey 'Mione!" grinned Ron, swinging an arm drunkenly around her shoulders. He didn't seem to acknowledge her current bristling state. "Where's Harry?"

"He's on his way," she replied stiffly, gently extracting herself from her fiancé. "Now let's cut this cake, for Merlin's sake!"

Ron furrowed his brow at her prickly tone, but just threw back the rest of his drink and followed her. The couple positioned themselves next to the towering tier cake and cheers erupted as, together, they slid the knife through the many layers. Hermione plastered a delighted beam over her face but she could feel it slowly slipping as she glimpsed Harry entering the room and joining his girlfriend.

"I want a slice of the bloody cake!" Ginny shouted over suddenly, and everyone laughed. Ron issued pieces of cake all round and Hermione just smiled; the only thing betraying her anger was the whiteness of her fingers as they clutched her drink.

"What's up, 'Mione?" Ron murmured in her ear as his arm snaked tightly round her middle, his whiskey-tinged breath tickling her neck.

"Nothing," she said, as softly and honestly as she could, turning round to wrap her arms around her fiancé. Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed and did her best to forget about Harry and his ridiculous antics that day. There were more important things at that moment.

* * *

"You okay, Harry? You seem distracted."

It was the evening after the party. Most guests had left in high – though admittedly rather tipsy – spirits, after embracing Ron and planting kisses on Hermione, but Harry had been dishevelled and grudging. He'd managed to hold on most of the day, with the help of cake and drink, but had not given the engaged couple any congratulations before he had left, and had since been sat in the kitchen in Grimmauld Place, attending to a tankard of Butterbeer.

"I'm fine," he said dully, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The only people to not question his wellbeing that day had been Hermione, who had done her very best to avoid him and only looked his way to throw him an icy glare, and George Weasley, who was too drunk to notice.

His girlfriend gave an irritable sigh and poured Gillywater into a glass. Gulping it in one, she placed the cup back down on the surface and stared pointedly at Harry, but the young raven-haired man did not react. In fact, he seemed completely lost in thought.

"I'm going over to the Burrow tomorrow, to discuss wedding plans," she said after a while, deliberately making conversation.

"What? The wedding isn't for nine months!"

The redhead rolled her eyes. "You know mum. She likes things prepared. And then next week I'm taking Hermione dress-shopping."

"Looks the I-like-things-prepared gene runs in the family," sighed Harry, taking a sip of Butterbeer.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" burst out Ginny suddenly, "what is wrong with you?! You've been brooding ever since we got back! And you didn't even have the manners to congratulate Ron and Hermione before we went! You're meant to be happy, your two best friends are getting married!"

Ginny didn't know – how could she know? – how much her words killed him. He drained his Butterbeer and just glared into the empty tankard as though it had caused him a serious offence. He knew she was perfectly right. Ron and Hermione had been his best friends for nearly fifteen years now and being happy for them was just one of the unwritten rules of friendship. He didn't know what was making him act like such a prick, but he wished it would just go away. He wondered what Hermione thought of him now.

His girlfriend continued looking at him with slight tears in her deep chocolate eyes. "Just... just, try and figure it out again, okay?" she said with tenderness.

He nodded, grateful for her not pressing the matter.

"I'm going for a walk," she said, grabbing her travelling cloak and wrapping it around her form, "see you later." And she was gone.

Harry remained sat at the table for some time, deep in thought. He knew he had not acted kindly to Ginny, and he was lucky patience was one of her traits. But it wasn't his pretty redheaded girlfriend he thought of as he sat there. It was _Hermione. _His best friend. The _fianc__é__e_ of his other best friend. _Get a grip, _he told himself sternly, his head growing steadily heavier as his eyes closed. He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up he was slumped across the table, his head in his arms and his back searing from the uncomfortable twisted position. Greyish light streamed through the window and he noticed Ginny's travelling cloak had not been returned to its hook; she had probably stayed the night at the Burrow. Trying not to feel too miserable, he sat up and rubbed his back, muttering curses under his breath.

"Kreacher?" he croaked, and with a sharp _crack _the house-elf appeared before him.

"Yes, Master Harry?"

"Has Ginny been back?"

"Mistress Ginny has not returned since last night."

_So she had stayed at the Burrow._ Struggling up from his chair, Harry stretched his worn muscles and ran a hand through his tousled black hair. "I better freshen up, then I'll go find her."

"Would Master Harry like anything? Kreacher can make him breakfast..."

"No, thanks, Kreacher," smiled Harry, "I'll be okay. But thanks a lot."

The house-elf bowed deeply and disappeared with another loud _crack._ Harry trudged up the stairs, showering briefly before pulling on clean robes and running a comb through his even-untidier-than-usual locks. He then stepped outside and Disapparated straight to the Burrow. Ginny's cloak was hung up in the porch; his assumptions had been correct. Raising a hand to the doorknocker, he smacked it down onto the wood in the usual three short knocks. There was a scuffle beyond and then the door opened to reveal Molly Weasley.

"Oh, hello, Harry dear," she said, slightly warily.

"I'm sorry to bother, Mrs Weasley," he said, "but I think Ginny came here last night..."

"She's just in the kitchen," she smiled, opening the door to allow him entry. He nodded politely and strode through to the familiarly cosy room. His girlfriend was sat at the table eating a bowl of cereal, and opposite her was... Hermione. The redhead looked surprised to see Harry, but she got up to hug him.

"Sorry for not coming back," she murmured in his ear.

He shrugged as well as he could with her hanging from his neck. "It's fine. Sorry I acted how I did..." His eyes sought Hermione over Ginny's shoulder. She was very deliberately not making eye contact, her eyes on her porridge.

"Feeling better?" Ginny continued, pulling away to gaze at him.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, wishing Ginny had not mentioned his feelings with Hermione in the room. The moment broke as Ron entered the room, looking distinctly ill and sleepy.

"Mornin'," he said with a yawn, looking around the kitchen, "oh, hey Harry. Everything okay?"

"Brilliant," said Ginny, lacing her fingers through Harry's and leading him to the table.

"I feel crap," said Ron bluntly as he spread jam thickly over four slices of toast.

His sister rolled her eyes, exchanging an exasperated look with Harry. "Hungover, possibly?" she remarked.

Ron took the seat next to Hermione and set his stack of toast in front of him. "Yep."

Hermione kissed his cheek and stroked his messy red hair affectionately. Looking away with a swallow, Harry glimpsed the time on the large carriage clock on the opposite wall. It was nearly nine o'clock. "I better get to the Ministry," he said, talking more to Ginny than anyone, "see you later."

His girlfriend got up and pressed her lips to his. "Come back here after, mum's making everyone dinner."

He nodded and left the room without so much of a glance to Ron and Hermione.

* * *

The next few weeks passed miserably for Harry. He had not made eye-contact with and tried his utmost to avoid Hermione, even giving Ron the cold shoulder. He tried not to treat Ginny with such indifference but found himself being stiff with her anyway. His days had the same routine: he would get up and shower to soothe his banging head, bolt a hurried breakfast prepared by Kreacher, go out to the Ministry, quickly dodge out of sight whenever he caught sight of Hermione, come back and make small talk with Ginny, drown himself in reports, eat a silent dinner with his girlfriend, drink and then stomp up to bed, grumbling and often completely wasted. He knew how childish and impractical he was being but what he could he do? He had no desire, no motivation to do anything. His life simply revolved around drinking and working. Working was his distraction and drinking was his anchor.

Summer slid into autumn, and all the while the date dreaded wedding grew ever closer. This only put Harry in a fouler mood than usual, and resulted in him reducing Ginny to tears before storming furiously out of the house and roaming the streets of London in an attempt to clear his head. He thought bitterly of his girlfriend and how much of an asshole he was acting with her, knowing he would have to make amends with her soon. Evening had fallen and he found himself Apparating to the edge of the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. Though he could make out the familiar towering form of the Burrow against the dimly-lit sky, it was not there he aimed for.

Instead, ten minutes later, he was sat in the Lovegood household, pretending to enjoy his cold 'tea' and pouring his heart out to Luna.

"...and basically, I've been a complete tosser and frankly I wouldn't be surprised if Ginny left me tomorrow."

"No, me neither," Luna replied candidly, but her tone was, as always, soft. "Harry, how long have you been hiding feelings for Hermione?"

He jerked his head up to stare at her. "I haven't been _hiding _them," he said with a frown, but when Luna continued to look at him expectantly, he sighed and put down is drink. "I don't know Luna, I don't know. I guess I always felt _something _for her, but I just shook it off and kept it deep down. I didn't want to feel for her, hell, I _don't _want to..."

"But you do," Luna finished for him, taking a quiet sip of her tea before setting down the mug. "Look, Harry, I love Hermione, Ronald, and Ginny, as well as you. And I think you've got to think what's best for them. You and Ginny have been together for a while and I think it's time you got properly over Hermione and tried properly with Ginny. I guess that's probably not what you want to hear, but that way, everyone is happy."

With a sinking feeling, Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know. Thanks for everything, Luna." He got slowly to his feet, offering the girl a small smile, and left the room.

When he got back home to Grimmuald Place, he was only slightly surprised to find it empty except for Kreacher. On the kitchen table, was a note:

_Harry,_

_I'm sorry it's come to this but I really can't put up with it anymore._

_I think we should take a break. I don't know how long, but I know you need to sort out your feelings._

_I didn't want to do this, but I feel like there's no other choice._

_I'll be at the Burrow_

_Ginny x_

_P.S I've confiscated all the alcohol._

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry whispered, crumpling the note in his hand and hanging his head.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oh god, sorry, this took longer than expected! It was New Year and this was almost ready to post, then suddenly it was February, and now it's March! I'm afraid exams, homework, auditions and rehearsals have waylaid me slightly, along with a large bout of procrastination! (as per usual)**

**I'm so thankful for the amount of reviews, follows and favourites. It's a crazy number and I couldn't ask for better readers than you guys so thank you! Please do leave a review before you go because I find them really helpful and they always leave me with a happy warm glow inside knowing someone has taken the time to write one.**

**I just want to say that I'm sorry for the H/G & R/Hr at present moment but I PROMISE it will be H/Hr eventually, and I will not stop writing til we get to that point!**

**Hope you had a wonderful New Year btw; I think one of my resolutions is to finish this fic!**

**Disclaimer:**** recognise something? It's not mine.**

* * *

"Waiting for someone, sir?"

Harry looked round. He was sitting in an Italian restaurant down the road from Grimmauld Place, fidgeting anxiously with one of the white napkins. The smartly-dressed waiter behind him was watching with a faintly amused expression.

"Erm, yes, actually, I am," Harry admitted.

"Perhaps you could have my job then!" joked the waiter, and Harry pursed his lips in a grimace at the feeble joke he knew the man had been dying to say.

Then he saw it: the familiar splash of red hair amidst the subdued, monochrome hues of the restaurant. Ginny was weaving her way towards him, looking an absolute vision in a pure-white dress which revealed plenty of leg and cleavage, her long hair loose and sleek and diamond jewellery glittering at her neck and wrists. A slight smile curved her mouth as she approached him and gracefully took the seat opposite.

"I can see why you waited so long!" laughed the waiter, shamelessly checking Ginny out before returning behind the bar.

"So?" Ginny said, her smile fading and being replaced by a stern expression.

"Erm, so?" Harry said awkwardly, practically making origami with his napkin now.

The redhead huffed sharply through her nose. "Well, why are we here? You willing to start treating me like a proper girl? Like your _girlfriend_? A girlfriend who looks after you when you're drowning away in alcohol! A girlfriend who loves you, has never let you down..." She trailed off, breathing heavily and blinking back tears threatening to fill her bright brown eyes. She reached for a napkin to dab at her face.

Dropping his own, Harry looked up to meet her gaze. "Gin, what can I say? I'm sorry."

"I'm not sure sorry's enough."

"Let's eat," he said shortly, grabbing a menu and scanning it.

"I'm not hungry."

"No, me neither," Harry said resignedly, casting a nervous hand through his already-messy black hair.

Ginny raised her eyebrows and rose to her feet. "Let's get out of here, then. I'm sorry, but you're not gonna win me back with posh Italian decor and expensive food."

He barely had time to grab his cloak and throw several Galleons on the table before she'd left the restaurant. He caught up with her outside, where she was stood just beyond the doorway in the darkening street, waiting for him.

"Can't we just try again?" he said bluntly, pulling his cloak around him.

"It's not exactly that simple..." sighed Ginny. A tear slid down her cheek and she fiercely brushed it away. "I just was so sick of it, Harry. The way you were acting!"

Harry ducked his head. "I know. I – I don't know what I was thinking... or why I was acting like that..."

"I do," Ginny said sadly, looking at him with glistening eyes. "Hermione."

Harry's heart did a small somersault. "You – you – what?"

The redhead shook her head. "Look, it doesn't – I don't... Whatever. But listen, I don't want to be in a relationship with someone who pretends to love me but loves someone else."

It took Harry several moments to process her words. "I do love you! Well I – I-" He didn't know what to say, what to think. "I don't love Hermione," he said honestly. _Not yet, _he added silently.

"But you don't love me either," Ginny said with a wry smile. "It's okay," she said quickly, as he opened his mouth. "It doesn't matter." She looked at him differently now, her coffee eyes searching him. "But... maybe you will. Maybe you will love me."

Swallowing at her change of heart, Harry met her eye. "Maybe," he said, "maybe I will – I can."

Ginny looked away again, taking a deep breath. "I'm not sure about this, Harry. But I think we can try again." She gazed at him, blinking a tear. "I want to."

Smiling, Harry closed the distance between them.

* * *

"So, you're back together with Harry?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Hermione said honestly.

The redhead glanced shrewdly at her. "You know how he feels, don't you?"

"I know he's been acting like someone he's not since Ron and I got engaged," Hermione sighed, casting a troubled hand over her face; the simple diamond engagement ring glittered.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed, "but I'll help him get over it, don't worry."

The brunette smiled at her friend. "Thanks, Gin. You will work things out, I know."

"Anyway, enough of me and Harry," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes, "we're getting your dress sorted!"

It was a blustery Autumnal afternoon, and the golden leaves of the trees carpeted Diagon Alley. Ginny and Hermione – wrapped up in many thick layers and both with woollen hats jammed over their ears – were heading for the nearest and bestest wedding shop on the street: Madam Taffeta's Weddings. Hermione had been several weeks earlier to pick the dress design for the big day. Madam Taffeta had owled Hermione that morning to say that the dress was ready.

"We better find bridesmaid dresses too," Hermione had said as she asked Ginny to accompany her to the shop. "The wedding will be in April – late spring – so I'd like a bright, fresh theme."

Madam Taffeta's Weddings was a large, airy shop, with a domed ceiling, and wouldn't have looked out of place in Venice or Rome. The walls were plain, pastel cream and shimmering white tiles covered the floor. The plainness was made up for, however, by the many racks of brightly-coloured dress robes, wedding dresses, decorations and accessories in almost every free space. Elegant hats sporting real, tropical birds whose sweet song filled the light air sat atop stands; high heels in every shade of every colour lined shelves; and jingling bells, blossoming bouquets and small, vivid indoor fireworks were scattered about. On a crystal counter on the far wall was a vast array of magnificent wedding cakes; towering tiers of sponge and thick icing, decorated to suit all tastes and needs. A gaggle of middle-aged women in fur were cooing excitedly at a huge, lurid pink affair on top of which a real rose was blooming majestically, dropping petals on the layers below.

Hermione and Ginny were immediately swamped by a pretty blonde assistant, who was wearing a pristine white and gold uniform and a helpful smile. "How can I help?" she said eagerly, flashing perfect teeth at Hermione as she pulled off her hat and shook her brown curls free.

"I placed my order for a wedding dress a few weeks ago," Hermione informed her, stowing her hat, scarf and gloves into her handbag, "Madam Taffeta owled this morning to let me know it was ready to be picked up – and there's a few other things I'd like to look at while I'm here."

"Madam Taffeta will be with you shortly," beamed the assistant, "she's just attending to another customer. Now, what other things would you like to look at?"

And so Hermione and Ginny set about browsing through the flamboyant shop, with the blonde assistant hovering at their shoulders and babbling in a way that caused her to waver over the line between help and hindrance. Hermione decided in barely any time on bridesmaid dresses for Ginny, Luna and Melissa, her good friend from the Ministry. The dresses were ocean-green silk, with a wrap-around, plunging bodice and a thick sash. They flowed to the knee and the back of them dipped dramatically in a v-shape.

"They're gorgeous," Hermione breathed, "what do you think, Gin?"

"Perfect," Ginny smiled, "and the colour won't clash horribly with my hair, thankfully."

Hermione laughed and the grinning blonde assistant picked three of the dresses out for her. At this point, Madam Taffeta came tottering towards them on ridiculously-high heels. She was middle-aged but caked in make-up that took several years off her, and she had striking, pointed features. Though, like her assistant, she was clad in the shop's white and gold uniform, she had accessorised it with a violet feather fascinator in her dark hair, heels in a soft shade of puce and an orange silk ribbon tied around her waist.

"Hermione," she smiled graciously, her voice laced with a foreign accent, nodding to her assistant who scurried off, levitating three of the green bridesmaid dresses off the floor as she went. "If you will come with me..." Her large blue eyes found Ginny, "is your friend coming along too?"

"Yes."

"Follow me, then," Madam Taffeta said, and she led them through the vibrant shop and to a set of fitting rooms with gauzy white curtains drawn across. "I have left your order in here to try on," she said, pulling back the curtain of one of the rooms and gesturing Hermione inside, "we can make any minor adjustments this way, so it is perfect."

Hermione thanked her and disappeared into the fitting room, leaving Ginny to perch on one of the emerald velvet pouffes outside.

The brunette gave a little sigh as she scanned the spacious room, complete with a leather armchair, mirror, rail and leafy plant. There it was, hanging from the silver rail in all its glory; her wedding dress. Smiling in spite of herself, she lifted the smooth, flowing gown from the rail and ran her fingers down the intricate design.

It was floor length, with a sheer train. The heart-shaped bodice was plain, snow-white satin, and was cinched at the middle with a wrap-around sash in the same material and colour. The skirt flowed down elegantly from the sash, and creeping up one side were individually stitched, emerald lace flowers, which swirled and bloomed up and around the skirt. At the centre of each flower was a tiny, glimmering pearl. Hermione caught her breath. It was different, and yet so beautiful.

Hastening to pull it on, Hermione stripped quickly into her underwear and began to carefully climb into the smooth, cool gown. The bodice slipped on perfectly, and the skirt swirling around her legs gave her the impression she was wreathed in clouds. Lifting her gaze to the mirror, she felt her jaw drop.

It was perfect.

Her dreamy reverie was interrupted by Ginny's voice: "Oi, Hermione! Let me see! You've been ages!"

Grinning madly to herself, Hermione checked the stunning gown at all angles, shaking her head in pure disbelief at the flawlessness of it. She then turned away from the mirror and drew back the curtain.

There was a long pause in which Ginny got abruptly to her feet, staring wide-eyed and Hermione merely beamed down at her. After several, long moments, Ginny cleared her throat slightly and blinked, and Hermione's smile faded. "Don't you like it?"

"No, no, it's absolutely gorgeous," Ginny assured her, but her brown eyes were still troubled. She met Hermione's gaze and then looked away. "It's just... I thought it might have, you know, blue or something on. Blue or red, or even orange – you know, when you said it had colour. I just thought... Ron colours."

Hermione was not following her. She just frowned at Ginny as she struggled with the words.

"But no..." She looked the dress up and down, her eyes resting on the creeping emerald flowers, "it's so... it's so Harry."


End file.
